


Bus Stop After the Highway

by saltslimes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY FOR MYSELF, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 21:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16502666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltslimes/pseuds/saltslimes
Summary: The temperature had dropped significantly once again, but Prompto was still wearing the layer of sweat he’d had in the car. In the firelight he looked less human; his eyes cast back a reflection of brilliant orange. Ignis pressed a hand to his forehead.“You’re a bit warm. Probably would be best if you sleep on the far side of the tent tonight.” He mentally assigned himself as the buffer. If it was the same illness he’d been fighting off yesterday then he should be immune. Even if it was short lived, which it seemed to be, there was no point in risking Noctis catching it.





	Bus Stop After the Highway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaciart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaciart/gifts).



> [kaciart](kaciart.tumblr.com) was tormenting me even in my morning hours with good fic ideas. and thus: this. plot cred goes largely to her, i just added the meaty parts.

Ignis killed the engine and stayed still for a moment while the others got out. The sun was beating in through the windshield, making minor efforts in a long effort to degrade the wiper blades and rot the plastic backing on the rearview mirror. Gladio slapped the door and Ignis looked up.

“You coming or what?”

“Oh, of course.” Noctis and Prompto were already at the door of the diner, Noctis talking loudly about his record in some game and Prompto leaning into the door to keep it propped open. Ignis climbed out and followed them inside. There was a light tickle at the back of his throat, better than the day before but worse than nothing. Inside he ordered a tea instead of black coffee, and received three stares of terror and bewilderment.

“Dude, are you feeling okay?” Noctis asked. Ignis rolled his eyes.

“I was in the mood for something a bit more aromatic,” he said. If Noctis wanted to challenge him he’d have to remember what aromatic meant. Prompto ordered coffee, which was also odd. In high school he used to loudly complain that he hated the taste and the smell, but tastes mature and change, Ignis supposed. When Gladio mentioned it, Prompto shrugged.

‘We still have that hunt today. Gotta stay sharp.” As if to emphasize this point, he smacked his cheeks.

“Whatever works for you, weirdo,” Gladio said. He had a coffee in front of him too, but one with several sugars and a generous volume of cream in it. Prompto finished his and his refill when the server came around. Then they got back on the road.

The day really started to wear long when they were driving back to the haven. Prompto was in the passenger seat jiggling his leg as if it was required to power the vehicle. Ignis tried shooting him a look about it, but it had no effect. Finally, as they were pulling off the road, he cleared his throat.

“Might be wise to ease back on the caffeine in the future,” he said softly.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sorry about that. Just kind of… out of it.” It had cooled off dramatically, so much so that Ignis was impressed Gladio was still wandering around with his shirt off, but Prompto had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, Ignis could just make it out as the lights in the dashboard faded.

“Prom are you coming or what? We gotta set up the tent,” Noctis called. Ignis hauled himself out of the car to get a start on dinner, and Prompto bounded off to meet Noctis and Gladio as they started hammering in tent pegs. For anyone else, setting up in the dark would be next to impossible, but Gladio had been camping since he was a child, and it was one of the skills he’d drilled into Noct at every opportunity. Prompto might not have been the fastest on the uptake, but you could point him in the direction of a task and he’d pretty reliably do it.

Dinner was well-organized and perfectly seasoned, if Ignis was going to say so himself, which he wasn’t, but that hardly stopped him from thinking about it. Peppery daggerquill rice. He set out three portions (one slightly larger, for Gladio) and then made himself a plate while the others came in and started eating. Well, while Noctis and Gladio started eating. From what Ignis could tell, Prompto spent most of the meal pushing food around on his plate and occasionally eating a mouthful with a look of distaste.

Ignis watched Noctis and Gladio eagle-eyed, but they seemed to be visibly enjoying the meal. He tasted it himself, tried to roll it over his palate for some mistaken herb over or heavy handed spice that would make Prompto look so disgusted. But it was perfectly balanced, warm, not too greasy and not at all dry.

Prompto barely finished half of it. He helped Ignis with the dishes but didn’t talk, which was bizarre.

“Not to your taste?” Ignis asked. He tried to keep pointedness from entering his tone. Prompto looked up from where he was scraping food into the trash bag.

“Oh, n-no! I mean yes. It was really good. I’m just feeling kind of… not feeling the best.”

The temperature had dropped significantly once again, but Prompto was still wearing the layer of sweat he’d had in the car. In the firelight he looked less human; his eyes cast back a reflection of brilliant orange. Ignis pressed a hand to his forehead.

“You’re a bit warm. Probably would be best if you sleep on the far side of the tent tonight.” He mentally assigned himself as the buffer. If it was the same illness he’d been fighting off yesterday then he should be immune. Even if it was short lived, which it seemed to be, there was no point in risking Noctis catching it.

“Yeah, right. ‘Course,” Prompto said. He ducked his head. Ignis took the plate from him.

“Go get some rest, why don’t you?” he said. Prompto nodded and retreated off in the direction of the tent. Ignis distantly heard a brief conversation between him, Noctis and Gladio.

“Serious? That sucks,” from Noctis.

“You should try to sleep facing the wall. If it’s bad I sure as hell don’t want to catch it,” from Gladio. Prompto laughed weakly. If nothing else, it could be said that he had spirit in spades. When Ignis finished the dishes and turned in Gladio and Noctis were having a hushed conversation by the fire, evidently something serious. Prompto was asleep already, facing the tent wall.

Ignis fell asleep almost immediately, and woke some indeterminate time later to Noctis and Gladio laying down. Then he was out again, sleeping without dreams. When he woke up light was leaking through the tent ceiling. He swallowed experimentally. Gone. So that was one less thing to worry about.

         []  
o////||::===============-   
         []

Prompto was no stranger to insomnia (haha, pun kind-of intended). In high school he slept on average of thirty-five hours a week, half from homework, half from work, and then some nebulous percentage because he’d let Noct talk him into playing video games until three am on a school night.

Insomnia in bed sucked. The sheets would get hot, his shirt would sweat cling to his back, he’d watch the moonlight cross his bedroom and the sky lighten the shadows around his dresser until the room was blurry but full of sun. In a tent was about a hundred times worse. He spent what felt like a week curled on his side trying not to cough.

As soon as he could see the world outside beginning to lighten, he stumbled out of the tent as silently as possible. He sat by the grey embers of last night’s fire for a bit, and then was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to vomit.

He spit watery bile at the edge of the haven, stayed on his hands and knees for a while to see if more was coming. Just dry heaves. When his abdominals stopped trying to tie themselves into tidy knots and exit through his mouth, he went back to camp. Ignis was just unzipping the tent.

“Feeling any better?” he asked. Prompto didn’t trust his voice, so he shook his head.

“Hmm. It would be best if you move your chair a little ways away when eating then,” he said, turning his attention to breakfast preparations.

“Uh, yeah, of course.” He collected some water from the cooler and zoned out in a chair for a while. Gladio got up and dragged Noct out of the tent, which earned him a flailing slap in the face and Noctis flipping him off with both hands. He went over to to to Iggy about something. Prompto drifted. When he came back into his body it was to a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna take a jog. You coming?”

“I dunno, I’m not feeling great,” Prompto started to say. But that never stopped him before. He ran no matter the weather and no matter how much he felt like dying. And of course, Gladio snorted.

“You gotta suck it up, kid. That’s what it means to be part of the crownsguard. You really that sick?”

Prompto struggled to take an inventory of himself. He felt like some of his limbs were underwater, but even understanding which ones seemed impossible. Nothing hurt that bad. He was just… stiff.

“Nah. Let’s go.” he pushed himself out of the chair. Gladio turned to fix one of his laces. The world tilted and stars popped in Prompto’s vision. But he blinked hard and it resolved. Gladio took off at a moderate pace (he was about endurance, not speed) and Prompto found he was able to match it without much difficulty. Maybe his lungs burned a little harder than usual. And evidently Gladio went easy on him, because their run was much shorter than normal. But he felt good for having done it. Good and wrung out and kind of ringing in his bones. But all that melted into nervous energy in the car. Out to the hunt, shoot some things, back to the haven, all in a day.

When Prompto was cleaning his gun, trying to finish before the sun had the chance to go down, he found his fingers shaking like butterfly wings. If he focussed, he could hold them still. In fact, when he focussed, they seemed to go still on their own. And he knew the parts of the gun better than his own body, so it wasn’t too hard to get it back together in working order.

         []  
o////||::===============-   
         []

Noctis hated getting sick. He usually knew instantly, but this one took a little while, crept up on him like a draft stealing under a doorway. When he woke up it seemed like his throat was just dry, and some water helped, and while they were driving out to the hunt he just dozed like usual. It was after the hunt, when they went to turn it in and get some food, the car started to feel like a boat rocking.

“Iggy,” he said. He grit his teeth.

“Mm?” Ignis said, not even glancing in the rearview mirror.

“Specs. Pull over,” he said. He’d never been carsick. Not in his entire fucking life, and he’d been on plenty of long car trips. Ugh. With the top up it stank of stale sweat and must. Old leather and grit in the carpet. It was suddenly too hot.

“Noct, are you--?” Ignis started, but Noctis kicked the back of his seat.

“Pull over.”

Ignis steered the car off onto the shoulder and Noctis threw out his door with barely enough time to vomit his lunch into the wet gravel. It was raining. Next thing he knew someone was pressing a bottle of water against his cheek.

“I was hoping to avoid this,” Ignis said, folding his arms over his chest. The rain felt good, even if he was cold. Cold enough he was almost shivering. He curled in on himself and back into his seat. Gladio leaned over him and closed the door. After a moment Ignis got back in the car.

“We passed a motel not to long ago. We’ll pick up some supplies and head there for the night. No sense camping if you’re sick.”

“Sounds good. Urgh.” Noctis popped his door open to swish water in his mouth and spit it into the dirt.

         []  
o////||::===============-   
         []

Prompto didn’t sleep in the car. His heart was hammering at his chest. He’d been careful to keep his distance, not to touch any of Noct’s things but apparently it was useless. When they pulled in at the gas station and Gladio climbed out he rapped his knuckles on Prompto’s window.

“Hey, you coming in? Ignis is staying with Noct,” he said. Noct was half out of the car again, spitting thick saliva into the dirt. Prompto stumbled out and followed Gladio into the shop.

“Just what we need is Noct getting sick,” he said, folding his arms and glancing around the store. “Sports drinks I guess. You need anything?”

“Uh, bathroom,” Prompto said quickly. He peeled off to the back where the lock for the bathroom proclaimed it to be vacant. Inside there was no mirror. Just as well, probably. He didn’t really want to look at himself.

He turned on both taps and then left them running. His arms were shaking. The was a rust stain running from under the sink to the metal grate in the middle of the floor, the sloping concrete split by hairline fractures and spidering chasms. It was too hot in the room by far, but he felt cold, somehow. Detached.

Each inhale felt like he was swallowing a tonne of bricks. He pressed a hand to his chest, but it did nothing to help. Made him more nauseated. But he was fine. He’d _be_ fine. He’d been sick like this before, and it had never prevented him from going to school or getting his work done. If he pushed, if he dug, he would find some store of energy he never knew was there. He’d be able to keep going.

And sure enough, when he stood up straight, when he left the bathroom and met Gladio at the register, there was electricity singing in his bones. There was something urging him forward, numbing out all the aches and pain.

They got one of the last rooms at the motel. Prompto and Gladio carried in supplies from the car while Ignis got Noctis settled.

“You’re the shortest, can you take the couch?” Gladio asked as he was closing the door behind them. “Hey, are you listening?”

Prompto started.

“Oh, sorry.”

“I asked you twice, can you take the couch?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Prompto said. “Is he doing okay?” Ignis looked up sharply. Prompto had to tell himself there was nothing accusatory in that expression.

“His fever is coming down, from what I can tell,” Ignis said diplomatically. Prompto nodded. It was hot in the room. It was hot on the couch. The springs creaked and complained. Across the room, Gladio punched his pillow into shape.

Ignis asked Prompto to help him reorganize some of their inventory, and it galvanized him, it lit his bones on fire and allowed him to draw air into his lungs.

         []  
o////||::===============-   
         []

Gladio woke up in the dark, feeling stiff. Cheap beds. He honestly preferred sleeping in the tent, but if Noctis was sick, being out in the rain wasn’t exactly going to help. He knew right away somehow that he wasn’t going to get back to sleep. That part of him that you can train in but can’t train out was shouting. He got up, careful not to shift the bed enough to wake Ignis. He didn’t bother putting shoes on.

Walk the perimeter of the motel, he figured. Then he’d be able to sleep again, or he wouldn’t. But lying around wasn’t helping anything.

He was slow with opening and closing the door, sure to keep quiet. Noctis slept like the dead, and especially when he was sick, but he didn’t want to be the one who woke him up and somehow incurred the wrath of Ignis.

A good half of the lights outside were burnt out, but there was still enough to see by. It was colder than he expected. He almost found himself wishing he’d put on a jacket, or at least shoes. But Gladio kind of liked the cold. Better than heat, certainly.

He turned the corner and stopped. There was a figure standing over the ice machine, one hand on the lid, not moving. He glanced over his shoulder, and then took a few steps forward. The light above the ice machine flickered to life.

Not a figure. Prompto. He was barefoot too, staring at the closed ice machine like it held the answers to the universe.

“You good there, blondie? It broken?” Gladio called. Prompto turned to him, and he was close enough to see that his eyes were glassy, almost unfocussed. He gestured towards the ice machine.

“Ice,” he said, as if that explained anything. He was sweating, Gladio realized. Even in the cold.

“Whoa, okay. You might be sicker than we thought, buddy,” he said. Prompto nodded like they were in a business meeting and Gladio had just made a great point about the quarterly reports.

“Yes, sorry,” Prompto said, and then turned around and collapsed. He went down too fast for Gladio to do anything. He had to scrape him off the concrete instead, and yeah, he was burning up, he’d sweat through his clothes and his skin was flushed bright pink.

“Shit,” Gladio said under his breath. “ _Shit_.”

Prompto was shivering. He was light too, dense with muscle to an extent but… light. Gladio scooped him up and carried him back to the room. There was no way to be quiet coming in, because it took some juggling to get the door open and then shut behind them. Ignis sat up in the bed he’d been sharing with Gladio, blinking in the dim light.

Gladio crossed to the bed and laid Prompto down beside Ignis, who was already out from under the covers.

“What’s happened?” he asked. Gladio ignored him in favor of tapping Prompto’s cheek. He felt like pavement under the summer sun. Elements on an electric stove.

“Prom? You with me?” he tried. In response Prompto seemed to struggle to open his eyes. He whimpered slightly. “I found him outside, totally out of it,” Gladio said softly. Ignis reached out to touch his neck and flinched back.

“Was it this bad yesterday?” he whispered. Gladio shook his head. No way of knowing. Ignis straightened up, back to his working posture. “He needs a change of clothes.” Unspoken was the implication that Gladio needed to do that, while he rummaged through their supplies for a towel and whatever medicine was left.

He’d noticed Prompto running slower. He’d noticed him sweating in the car. Gladio searched for the words as he peeled off Prompto’s sweat-soaked t-shirt. Prompto groaned and curled in on himself. _Suck it up, kid?_ Yeah, something along those lines. He bit the side of his cheek.

Prompto resisted when he tried to put him in a fresh shirt. As pliable and eager-to-please as he was when he was lucid, this feverish version of him was stubborn and obstinate. It didn’t help that every touch seemed to hurt him.

Ignis came back armed with water and a damp towel.

“Meds?” Gladio prompted. Ignis shook his head.

“Nothing left that would bring a fever down. What were we thinking?” Ignis said. Gladio barely had to nudge Prom to get him to tip over into the bed. Ignis patted his forehead.

“I don’t know about you. I wasn’t thinking,” he said. Between the two of them they managed to coax Prompto into drinking most of the glass of water, but part way through he started gagging.

“I’ll get a bucket.” Ignis moved to leave but Prompto grabbed hold of the hem of his shirt and clung. His eyes were half-open, and he mumbled something unintelligible. Ignis leaned down a little. “What was that?” he asked, in a remarkably steady voice.

“Please don’t,” Prompto said. Ignis looked at Gladio in utter bewilderment, but Gladio could only shrug. “I’m sorry. Please don’t go,” he whispered. His grip on Ignis’ shirt was loosening, and Ignis peeled his fingers away and sat down on the edge of the bed with Prompto’s hand in his lap. He looked almost… embarrassed.

“Would you get the bucket? I think there was one in the cupboard beside the bathroom,” Ignis said. He did not meet Gladio’s eyes.

“Yeah, you got it.” As Gladio was retrieving the bucket, Noctis stirred but didn’t wake. He checked on him after handing it over to Iggy. He felt normal, no longer feverish.

         []  
o////||::===============-   
         []

There was a water stain where the ceiling met the wall over the bed, and Prompto knew this because he’d been watching the shape of it for a few minutes, making out the fuzzy edges. His ears hurt. Most of him hurt, but specifically, his ears felt… generally bad.

“You know,” that was Noct’s voice, from somewhere nearby. He turned his head to find him sitting on the end of the bed, eating half a sandwich. “I didn’t realize they taught self-sacrificing bullshit in the crownsguard, must have missed a memo or something.”

Prompto huffed but said nothing. The water stain remained static.

“They taught us,” Prompto trailed off. He pushed himself up so he was closer to sitting. Noctis had his arms folded. His hair was a mess.

“Gladio found you out by the ice machine like, not even present in your body.”

“I don’t remember,” Prompto said. That wasn’t entirely true. He remembered getting off the couch and going outside. He remembered the boiling water in place of his blood, he remembered oncoming heat death, he remembered gravel under his bare feet.

Being sick at the edge of the haven. No, that was a different day, that was a night they slept in the tent, and he still got up and fought, he was still _working_ then, he was still functional.

“They taught us what to protect,” he said.

Noctis sniffed on his inhale. He stood up full of purpose and immediately sat back down again. And Prompto knew if he dug, he was certain, he would find that wild energy again, he’d be able to stand, and work, and power on. But he felt so hollow. And then Noct was crawling over the bed, to sit beside him at the headboard. He tucked his knees up to his chest.

“I saw one of my bodyguards get shot, once,” he said. He let it hang there. “Blood everywhere.” He sniffed again. “Ignis and Gladio should apologize to you. I should apologize to you.”

“None of us should apologize for doing our jobs,” Prompto said. Noctis made a noise at the back of his throat. He found Prompto’s hand.

“Your job isn’t being a martyr. It’s being my friend.” He said it like it was a royal decree. Technically it was, Prompto supposed.

“Oh.”

Noct grabbed a handful of the blanket and then let it go. He scrubbed a hand over his face.

“You okay?” Prompto asked. He felt like an exposed nerve. He felt like it would be great if his fucking hands would stop shaking.

“However much you think I love you,” Noctis started. He swallowed. “Double that.”

It felt like a gut-punch. It literally knocked Prompto back. He remembered how to draw a breath.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. At least.”

Well, double nothing is nothing. But Prompto put that thought in the back, with the other bad stuff, and he focussed on Noct’s hand in his. Noctis tugged a strand of Prompto’s hair away from his face.

Sunlight speared through the motel curtains and cast the room in ugly gold.

**Author's Note:**

> [twit](https://twitter.com/saltslimes?lang=en) [pls 18+ only tho]
> 
> [tumblr](saltslimes.tumblr.com) [whaddup]
> 
> ~ there is no reason to write fic besides picking increasingly annoying page breaks ~
> 
> thx to [G9](gnine2.tumblr.com) for beta! but also i rushed her so if theres mistakes they are still my fault


End file.
